Preface Ivy

As I sprint towards the swamp"s edge, my slippers dig into the muddy ground. My heart is racing so fast it feels as though it"s going to beat out of my chest. Excitement and nerves mingle into one. Tonight is the night I will run away with my beloved Sorin, and he will finally make me his bride.

I pause briefly to take in my surroundings. The sun had set not too long ago, and now, the full moon beams in the night sky. I embrace the cool breeze that tickles my cheeks and continue toward our meetup point. I waited longer than expected to exit from my crumbling cabin to ensure that I didn"t run into my Uncle Edmund. He's usually home from the tavern by now and passed out on the floor. A seed of doubt creeps into my mind, but I'm already running out of time. I need to leave now or risk Sorin thinking I abandoned him. No, that wouldn"t do. My uncle is probably passed out at the home. I have no reason to worry about running into him. He has spent most of his days drinking ever since his brother, my father, died.

My chest tightens at the memory of my father. He was my world until he was murdered when I was twelve. My uncle and he were as thick as thieves, and when money got tight, it was a no-brainer for them to join a local militia group. It wasn"t a glamorous job; in fact, I think they saw a lot of horrors, but my father and uncle were skilled swordsmen, and it paid well. One day, he and my uncle left, promising to be back for supper, but only Uncle Edmund returned.

"Your father is dead." His words replay in my head over and over again. He said it with so much coldness. His icy stare bored into my soul as he looked upon my face, which must have reminded him of his brother. From that moment on, Uncle Edmund nurses liquor bottles to escape his reality. The reality in which he had to live in a world without his best friend.

However, "living" is too strong of a word to describe my uncle for the past eight years. Sure, he still breathes, but his mind died along with my father. I have a lot of empathy for my uncle, even though that empathy isn"t reciprocated. My uncle"s resentment is not lost on me. But I"m eighteen now, and I don"t want to live in a hole of grief any longer. After tonight, I will be far away from this village, living with the love of my life.

Sorin arrived in our small village over a month ago, and while he is a few years older than me, I still caught his special attention. For the life of me, I couldn"t understand why. So many other amiable girls in our town are far better off than me. I have no dowry. My uncle"s only income is pawning off my father"s old things, and the little coin he makes from that is spent all on booze.

But Sorin doesn"t care about the material things in life. No, he sees me for who I truly am. He says I am smart, beautiful, and funny. As is he, which is why I love him so much. He spent weeks being a complete gentleman courting me until he finally proposed we run away together under the most beautiful pine tree. I couldn"t contain my love for him and gave myself to him in my entirety.

I blush, thinking of the memory of his hand caressing my hips and his cock sliding into my virgin sheath. He declared that I was the love of his life and that he would rather die than be with anyone else. All I had to do was scrounge some money for our great escape. I, of course, knew that our departure wouldn"t be free, not to mention scandalous. But as long as Sorin married me, everyone would be none the wiser that I had given him my virginity before the wedding. My reputation will stay intact as long as we leave tonight. So, for the past week, I"ve been stealing coins from my Uncle Edmund"s coin purse when he was passed out drunk on our floor.

Earlier this morning, I received a note from Sorin, stating I should leave the pouch of the coin under the tree where we first made love and meet him at the swamp"s edge when the sun goes down. When he first suggested we travel through the swamplands, I protested. Everyone knows you stay far away from that treacherous place unless you are a brave tradesman. Only the most desperate seek to trade with the vicious creatures of the swamp. The most notorious, Orcs. But Sorin reassured me that all would be well. After a bit of arguing, I finally conceded.

I finally reach my destination, which Sorin mapped out, and wait anxiously. I grasp the hood that cloaks my identity. If there are any tradesmen around these parts, I don"t want to take the chance of any of them getting a good look at my face and telling people back in the village. News travels quickly in our town, and a young girl near the swamp"s edge would spread like wildfire. I don"t want to risk my uncle finding us out before we put ample distance between us.

Time passes, and I bite my lip in anticipation; surely, Sorin should be arriving soon. But then my mind wanders to darker places. What if he was caught?

A nearby rustling bush dashes any fear from the mind.

"Sorin! I was so scared you—" My words stop short as the man in front of me reveals himself not as Sorin but as my uncle Edmund.

"You foolish girl," he growls.

"Uncle Edmund, w-what are you doing here?" I stumble over my words.

"Trying to save you from this fucking mess you created."

"What?" I take a few apprehensive steps back.

"Don"t tell me you actually believed that treacherous worm," he spits. "What am I saying? Of course, you did. That"s why this is happening."

"Uncle Edmund, I don"t under—"

"He is a con artist," he cuts me off. "Sorin probably isn"t even his real name. I"ve met plenty of his type when your father and I were on the road. They go town to town, convincing young maidens to give them their coin in exchange for marriage."

"No, Sorin wouldn"t do that!" I shake my head in disbelief. It can"t be true. I start recounting every interaction that Sorin and I ever had.

"Believe it, sweetheart. You got duped." Uncle Edmund"s breath still reeks of ale. "I knew my coin purse felt lighter. I had thought some of the boys at the bar were swiping some off of me. I hadn"t figured you were foolish enough to fall for something like this until I overheard whispers in town."

"The whispers?" I squeak, afraid of what he is going to say next.

"Word on the street is that you are no longer a virgin. Completely sullied and undesirable." He looks at me with disgust.

"We were going to get married!" I cry out.

"He was never going to marry you!" he screams and grabs my shoulders as tears cascade down my cheeks.

"You fucked him like a no-good whore, and I"m going to be stuck with you my whole miserable life." He growls so close to my face that I shut my eyes tightly. Uncle Edmund has always been cruel, but I"ve never been as scared of him as I am now. I wriggle my way out of his grasp, and without thinking, I grab a dagger out of my boot. Before my father passed away, he spent his free time teaching me swordsmanship. I hated it, but he always reminded me that people in this world may want to hurt me. Little did he know it would be his own brother.

"Uncle Edmund, this isn"t my fault!" I sob, pointing my small dagger at him, trying to get him to desperately understand.

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, which is all the more threatening than his rage.

"Everything is your fault. Your father and I only worked that job so he could afford to buy you that stupid straw doll you wanted. He is dead because of you!" His words slap me across the face and sting more than Sorin"s registering betrayal.

"No…no!" I attempt to catch my ragged breath, and while I try to remember the basic sword training my father gave me, Uncle Edmund disarms me swiftly by barging into my body.

THUD. I shriek as I fall to the ground. My hands skid across the cold ground, and my dress tears. I welcome the pain as I lay face down in the dirt, sobbing uncontrollably. Sorin"s gentle touches, mingled moans, and gentle praises were all lies. He is truly not coming, and I, with everyone knowing I am no longer a virgin, am ruined. Not only that, but now I know the true reason for my uncle"s ire. If I was him, I would hate me too. I swear I can feel my heart burst into a million little pieces. My uncle is right, I am a fool.

Pulling out a flask from his tattered coat, Uncle Edmund hovers over me as he brings the old metal to his lips. Taking a swig seems to relieve some of his anger.

"The only reason I didn"t cast you out was because I promised him before he died that I would take care of you. But I"ll never love you, and I will never forgive you." His voice is laced with contempt. A few heartbeats pass, and my ragged cries are the only response I can muster. Uncle Edmund crouches down next to my soiled body and simply states, "I wonder what your father would say if he found out his daughter grew up to be a whore," before walking off like he didn"t just deliver the fatal blow to my heart.

I lay face down on the muddy ground for the entirety of the night, praying to the gods that something in the forsaken swamp would devour me whole. Unfortunately for me, my prayers were never answered.